


One Week? More like Three Days: Page Turner Superior Alternate Retelling

by softgrungeprophet



Category: Venom (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Asphyxiation, Assault, Attempted Murder, Bickering, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Cabins, Evil Twins, Explicit Language, Gen, Homoeroticism, Horror Tropes, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Innuendo, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, Plot Twists, Restraints, Rewrite, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-29 18:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18299600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softgrungeprophet/pseuds/softgrungeprophet
Summary: I, THE PAGE TURNER, HAVE DECIDED THAT THE ROMANTIC VERSION OF THIS STORY IS TOO BORING AND MUNDANE, SO I HAVE EDITED IT AND REWRITTEN A FEW PARTS HERE AND THERE TO INCREASE THE DRAMA.OH I LEFT THE CAPS LOCK ON, MY BAD.I've changed some things up to make this a little more mysterious and tense!I, the Page Turner, have changed the backstory stuff too--that whole "support system" thing is so passé. I've done something much more unique with Eddie's family. You'll never guess!Yes, okay, it's in the tags... still, I'm a genius!(Alternate retelling of One Week)





	One Week? More like Three Days: Page Turner Superior Alternate Retelling

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [One week](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18282299) by [softgrungeprophet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/softgrungeprophet/pseuds/softgrungeprophet). 



> This is an April Fool's joke... which I had a little too much fun with.  
> A large part of this is nearly identical to the original version of the fic but there are a few small differences, and specifically it diverges partway through the last quarter (originally chapter 4) to a completely different direction.  
>   
>  **If you've already read the first three or four chapters of the real fic, and don't really care about the small changes, you can use ctrl+f to go to the line "Is this yours?" which is where the scene really starts to diverge into the plot twist drama.**
> 
> Originally I intended to include some fake editorialization from the "Page Turner," a fanmade villain created by a few people in the Venom discord I'm a part of, but I ended up not bothering, and just leaving it as a modified story with the above ic summary.
> 
> Also I just wanna make clear up front, there's no sexual violence in this fic. There are a few flirtatious/homoerotic moments but once it starts actually getting into the assault/struggle/attempted murder I try to drop that as quickly as possible because while I think there's value in talking about things like sexual assault, this wouldn't be that; it would just be tasteless and potentially upsetting.
> 
> Anyway, uh... enjoy? I guess?

"We are not getting Slim Jims—"

"What's wrong with Slim Jims?" Flash looked over at Eddie, eyebrows drawing together slightly.

As if he could barely believe Flash would ask such a thing, Eddie snapped, "It is processed garbage—" He calmed himself, fully aware of his tendency toward dramatic overreaction, and said, "At least get something higher quality."

He reached for a few sticks of dried turkey meat, seasoned with rosemary and other herbs and spices, according to the label.

Organic!

Expensive.

"These are like five bucks apiece, dude."

Eddie nodded, setting their basket of gas station snacks on the counter. "And better for you."

Flash sighed, but conceded. "Fine." He tossed the turkey sticks in with the other stuff, as Eddie handed him a several ten dollar bills, which he had saved up despite being fired two months earlier for misconduct and unreliability. "Thanks."

Eddie stood aside, quietly glowering, as Flash paid.

Some junk, here and there. A box of chocolate donuts not even Eddie could say no to, with his proclivity for sweets and chocolates, some potato chips... but also some fruit cups and trail mix, and some pickles for Flash, who really liked pickles. All into two nondescript black plastic bags, which Eddie grabbed to take out to the car.

Neither of them said a word, as Flash glanced up at the darkening sky, shivering slightly despite his bulky green sweater. "Looks like snow."

Eddie frowned, as Flash pulled himself into the passenger seat. "Yeah. Maybe a blizzard."

"I hope not!" Flash held his arms out for the food, with a big, beaming smile.

With a brisk nod, Eddie handed the bags off, and opened the rear door so he could stow Flash's wheelchair in the collapsed backseat of their rental car.

It wasn't huge, but it had four doors and a pretty spacious trunk. Fit all their belongings, fit Flash's chair without having to remove the wheels, fit Eddie's long legs when he moved the driver's seat back.

The radio hummed on quietly, driver's choice (jazz) as Eddie turned the ignition and craned to check the coast was clear—empty for miles behind, just as he liked it, and just their carpool group in front. He pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the road as a few light flakes of snow dusted through the air. Car was still pretty cozy, thank God, and the heater came on shortly to get it just a bit warmer.

Flash didn't say much at all—Eddie had noticed earlier, he got very quiet in the car. Eddie had looked into his past, using the skills he'd picked up as a journalist to dig up some dirt, and apparently Flash had been in quite a few car accidents in his earlier twenties, including one that put him into a coma for a few weeks and left him with some mild brain damage...

Left him vulnerable, in situations like this.

Eddie kept an eye on the road, not far behind the other cars in their group, and hummed along with the radio.

The sky continued to darken, and the snow grew from a few scattered flecks of white to a more steady, fine drift. A sixteen-wheeler passed them, rumbling, side-by-side for just a moment, and Flash reached for one of the jerky sticks.

"I used to get a lot of Slim Jims back when..." Eddie paused, glancing over at Flash. "When I was homeless. Doritos, cheap jerky, stale bread rolls and bagels..." He turned on the windshield wipers. "They make me want to vomit."

Flash hummed, affirmative, as he gnawed on his stick.

His free hand rose to grab the handle over the window, as they drifted slightly toward the line.

Eddie slowed, a little, no one behind them to be bothered and the road already going a sheer white.

He glanced at Flash again, enough to see his knuckles almost as pale as the snow outside, from his tightening grip. "You okay?"

"No."

Eddie frowned. "I'm driving as carefully as I can."

"I know." Flash shifted, chewing on his jerky again—spoke around it—"Thank you." He took a breath. "Please keep talking."

For a moment, that put Eddie at a loss, but he kept his eyes forward on the taillights of their group and that big semi-truck, and murmured, "You remind me of my late ex-wife—" He made a face. "Is that a strange thing to say? People tell me I'm strange a lot."

Flash didn’t answer, but when Eddie looked over at him, he seemed paler than usual.

A particular rush of snow blocked out the cars ahead for just a moment, so distant they seemed. The truck ahead of them switched lanes, too, and that didn't help.

"You like romance novels?"

Flash didn't respond for a moment, but just as Eddie thought he might not have heard him, he said, "...Yeah."

 "Hmm..." Eddie waited for the truck to move, but it didn't.

"Can you reach my bag?" Eddie upped the speed of the windshield wipers. "I have a CD player in there, with some books-on-tape I burned from the library." He almost laughed. "I know it's a little old-fashioned but it has served me well."

Luckily, Eddie had stowed his backpack right behind the seat, and Flash was able to twist for it, to pull out Eddie's Walkman and one of the CDs. Flash settled back into his seat with Eddie's headphones on, eyes shut and hand still white-knuckled on the handle over the window.

Within five minutes, Eddie could no longer see the road—just the red taillights of the sixteen-wheeler in front of them, haloed by its own fog lights.

Who _knew_ where the rest of their group had gone. Hopefully outpacing the storm. Hopefully already far ahead of them, too far to catch up with.

The radio had fizzled into unclear static, though the occasional saxophone or trumpet peeked through.

Eddie followed the semi truck's blurring lights, the only thing he could really make out beyond a rare glimpse of roadside trees or barriers. He knew the general layout of this area, at least, from maps, and had planned this fairly carefully—by his research they should have been around some isolated, lower-elevation mountainous areas.

They were definitely driving at an incline, and surrounded by trees on either side.

But there was a turn, so he took it—hoping it was the turn he wanted, toward a low-population area with a few isolated vacation homes here and there.

Another turn came up, and then a narrow road—no buildings anywhere, just dark trees standing black against the snow, and shielding this side road slightly from the storm, leaving the asphalt a little clearer, a little more visible.

The road wound, and gradually turned to gravel, but Eddie drove slowly and tried to ignore the snow building up both ahead of and behind them. This had to go somewhere, and turning back wasn't an option—there wasn't even room to turn around if he wanted to.

But then—

"Perfect." Eddie turned into the driveway of a seemingly solitary cabin of some kind: a tiny two-story wooden house with a covered porch, a pile of firewood draped in a tarp, an even tinier shed... He shut off the engine.

"Where are we?" Flash leaned forward, a little wan but alert as he took off Eddie's headphones.

Eddie kicked his door open, moving snow out in a sweep with the bottom edge. "Wait here." He slammed it shut behind him, pocketing the car keys, and crunched through the foot or so of snow to get to the porch. Windows dark. He knocked, loud, and waited. Nothing. Maybe he could break in...

There was a garden gnome by the door, finger to its mouth in a gleeful hush.

"Good..." Eddie picked it up, and sure enough... "Spare key."

He held it up in triumph, so Flash could see, before turning around to unlock the door. It opened on a dark, quiet interior.

"Hello?"

Silence.

Wonderful.

He hurried back to the car, to open the back door. He stuck his head in, as he grabbed Flash's wheelchair, and asked, "How do you want to do this?"

"Uh..." Flash chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, as he considered. "The snow is too deep for me to use my wheelchair. Put it on the porch and carry me up."

Alright.

Chair to the porch; right back to the rental car—Eddie offered his back to Flash, and Flash grabbed on, wrapping his arms around Eddie's neck, careful not to strangle him. Eddie grabbed their food from the front seat and shut the passenger door so he could deposit his cargo on the porch. Kneeling again, of course, beside Flash's braked wheelchair, so that Flash could pull himself into the seat.

He left Flash to take their food into the cabin, and returned to the car to start bringing in their necessities from the trunk—things like his cane and oxygen machine, their suitcases and the like. A few trips, back and forth, hunched against the biting wind.

Between the freezing air, the unexpected workout the snow presented, and the weight of their things with no one to help... Eddie's lungs burned.

He doubled over with his hands on his knees wracked with violent coughing, most of their things piled on the wood floor in front of him and the cabin door shut and locked behind him. When he pulled his hand away from his mouth, it had a small speck of blood. Unsurprising but no less unpleasant.

"You gonna be okay?" Flash rolled closer, seemingly genuine in his concern.

Eddie straightened up with a grimace, reaching for his cane with a deep breath, and a smaller, choked back cough. He wiped his hand on his jeans.

"I'll be fine."

Flash raised his eyebrows, but he just said, "Okay."

***

Flash sat by the fireplace, munching away at a pickle and basking in the heat of the fire as he took in the cabin they had found.

It wasn't tiny, but not huge either. A small kitchen took up the opposite wall, partially open to the entrance and living room, with a door beside it that led to a bathroom. Just a step away, a compact, woolen loveseat with a throw blanket, where Eddie sat facing the fireplace; and a small coffee table at his feet. Flash had set himself up in a rocking chair, cozy by the fire, with his wheelchair within easy reach.

There was a ladder behind him, leading up to less of a second floor and more of a loft, where presumably the owner of this cabin slept...

"Do you have a signal?"

Flash turned his attention to Eddie, who held his phone up in the air as if that might improve his service. He'd put on a pair of reading glasses, which—combined with his turtleneck sweater—made him look a little bit like a librarian.

"Uhhh..." Flash fished for his iPhone to check. "No, nothin'."

He took a bite of his pickle.

Eddie grumbled. "I swear my old college Nokia never lost service like this. What's the point of a phone that doesn't even work?" He adjusted his glasses. "And everything is so tiny, I can't read it." 

Flash laughed. "What are you, sixty?"

Eddie leveled an unamused stare on him.

"Hey, lighten up." Flash gestured to the fireplace. "We're warm, we're safe, we're not driving in a blizzard—who cares about a dumb phone?"

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he put his phone away and folded up his reading glasses, tucking them into a soft pouch, and into one of the pockets of his leather jacket.

A shame, really.

The glasses suited him.

"Okay, so—" Flash reached for his wheelchair, so he could head over to their things. "Since this storm wasn't in the forecast it'll probably be alright tomorrow, so as long as we can manage to stay here for a day or two we'll be fine." He grabbed their pillows and held them out for Eddie to take over the back of the loveseat. "I'll sleep on the couch and you can sleep in the loft, I guess?"

Eddie hummed, hugging his pillow close as he stared at Flash.

A little unsettling, to be sure, but Eddie had always been a little unsettling.

Too bad neither of them had brought an extra blanket. But surely there were some around the cabin.

Flash pulled Eddie's bags onto his lap and wheeled them over to the base of the ladder that led to the loft. Eddie had a lot of things, though none particularly heavy... maybe that was the point—separate everything out so it's not one big load.

Flash himself certainly tended toward the opposite—one suitcase crammed to the gills.

He stacked Eddie's bags neatly at the foot of the ladder, for him.

***

Eddie stood leaning against the ladder to the loft, about ready to go to bed, but... not quite.

He watched Flash, asleep already on the loveseat... tucked under the throw blanket and another blanket which had been folded up underneath the coffee table. They'd put the fire out, but it still exuded a little bit of residual heat, and Flash looked cozy and warm. Innocent and open. Eddie looked up the ladder at the darkness of the loft, his things at his feet.

It was cold up there. Not as cold as it could have been, and the fireplace had done a pretty good job of heating up the whole cabin, but still colder than he would have liked.

He bundled himself up in blankets on the nearly floor-level bed and adjusted his cannula.

He closed his eyes.

Everything felt very still and quiet, even with the muted noise from his oxygen concentrator.

There was no electrical outlet up here—he could use the machine for a little while, but eventually the battery would run out, and he didn't have a backup. But it would have to do. He'd charge it in the morning, downstairs. Maybe find a way to sleep down there the next night, closer to Flash.

He counted his own breaths as he relaxed into the blankets.

He kept counting until he fell asleep.

***

Flash woke disoriented, in an unfamiliar living room with an unfamiliar ceiling.

Right. The snow storm. The cabin.

He nestled deeper into his blankets with a shiver.

Just as he thought he might drift off again, hoarse coughing startled him back into full awareness—Eddie, upstairs, dry and rasping. For just a second, Flash glared up at the ceiling, annoyed. But... then he felt bad. It sounded painful, muffled like maybe Eddie had pulled his blankets up or something. Like maybe he was trying not to be too loud.

As Eddie's coughs subsided into wheezing, Flash caught a grumbled, "Ow."

"You doing okay, dude?"

Eddie didn't answer, but his foot emerged from the darkness above, as he pulled himself over the edge, down the ladder, with his backpack on. He trudged over to the kitchen, and Flash watched him curiously as he pulled out a machine and plugged it into the wall. Eddie also pulled a water bottle out, refilling it at the tap so he could down some pills, and then just left the bag on the counter. He made his way back over to the living area, and plopped into the chair by the fireplace.

He shivered.

"How about I get the fire going?" Flash extricated himself from his piles of blankets, so he could transfer into his wheelchair.

Eddie grumbled, crossing his arms.

Flash rolled his eyes.

It didn't take long to get a nice fire burning, warm and inviting. Eddie had relocated to Flash's vacated spot on the loveseat, wrapping one of the blankets around himself and leaning against Flash's pillow without much care as to who it belonged to. He'd drawn his legs up to his chin, under the blankets, and now gazed into the fire as it crackled into a steady smolder.

Flash took a moment to check his phone—still no service. Outside, the snow had not abated, just as steady as the night before with no signs of stopping.

Eddie's stomach growled loudly.

Flash grinned.

"Man, I'm really feelin' a donut." He wheeled over to the kitchen, where he'd stashed their food. "How about you?"

"I suppose it's better than starving to death."

Flash suppressed a laugh as he fished out the box of chocolate donuts. As if he hadn't caught the way Eddie eyed them in the gas station. He tore the box open carefully, and made his way back over to the heat of the fire so he could set the open donuts on the coffee table. He shoved one in his mouth and hopped up onto the loveseat beside Eddie, tugging on one of the blankets.

Eddie let him take the blanket with a grumble, reaching for a donut—he hesitated and took a second one before leaning back against the cushions.

"Hungry?" Flash spoke with his mouth full.

Eddie glowered, pulling off a piece from one of the donuts. "Unlike some people, I can't live off of pickles and potato chips." He stared into the fire as he ate. "I didn't eat anything before bed last night and pulmonary fibrosis burns a lot of calories."

Flash frowned. He swallowed this time, before talking. "We could've gotten some more healthy stuff if you asked—"

"If I'd known we would be stranded in God knows where I might have said something." Eddie straightened up a little, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up and tightening the small throw blanket around his shoulders. "It doesn't matter, now."

Flash looked down at the blanket he'd reclaimed from Eddie, lain across his lap.

Back up to Eddie, with his hunched shoulders, done with one donut and moving on to the other, grumpy and a little stubbly already, after only a night.

"Hey," Flash lifted his blanket and scooted closer to Eddie, draping it across both of them as he moved right into Eddie's personal space. "C'mere."

Eddie held his breath for a moment—let out a small cough, then, and relaxed a little. He set his eyes on Flash, dark and unreadable... Flash glanced away, blushing slightly, as Eddie's arm came up around his shoulders, pulling him flush against his side with a firm grip, like steel.

***

Eddie sat awake, holding Flash tightly, for at least three hours—Flash had fallen asleep, and they lay together on the loveseat, Eddie on top of Flash, legs folded up to fit. He lifted his head. Took a deep breath and sat up, reluctant. But he needed to go to the bathroom and Flash would probably wake up soon too.

With a soft grunt, Eddie pushed himself to his feet. He took a moment to stretch, sore in one of his knees and his neck and his hip. The fire had died down to a soothing smolder, still warm, and Eddie moved over to the partially-curtained window in the kitchen to peer outside.

Not actively snowing, but the sky hung heavy with clouds and a good few feet of snow blanketed the ground outside. He opened the front door a moment, bracing himself against the cold rush of air. The snow had buried the front steps entirely, and layered itself nearly up to the hood of the rental car. Eddie shut the door and locked it. The power seemed to be holding strong... He considered throwing the breakers but he needed the electricity himself, and it wouldn’t really change much. Not useful.

Once he'd gone to the bathroom, he unplugged his fully charged oxygen machine, and double-checked it was off before poking around in their bags, stomach twisting in hunger.

All their food made him nauseous to look at, cheap garbage, full of sodium and sugar.

But he grabbed a fruit cup and one of the expensive turkey sticks he'd insisted on buying in the first place, and took them to the chair beside the fireplace to eat.

It really wasn't enough—but the idea of eating any more junk food made his stomach turn unpleasantly.

As Flash finally stirred, Eddie said, "I'm going to raid the pantry."

"Wh—" Flash sat up, suddenly. "Don't steal their food! It's wrong!"

Eddie ignored him, already halfway to the kitchen and ready to throw together whatever he could. The fridge was full of basic condiments, beer, butter, some moldy bread. The freezer yielded better results—frozen chicken thighs and handmade freezer jam.

He went to the pantry. Canned corn, canned chicken, some penne... he could work with that.

Some frozen peas too.

"How do you feel about pasta?"

Flash pursed his lips, resting his chin on the back of the couch. But... "You really shouldn't be taking food."

Eddie made pasta.

***

Flash lay on the floor in front of the door, doing stretches on his yoga mat.

He pulled one thigh to his chest, but just couldn't quite get the leverage he needed—"Hey, Eddie!" He craned his neck to see Eddie reading by the fireplace.

Well. He had a book in his hand, at least. But it kind of seemed like he had been watching Flash.

"Can you push down on my leg?"

Eddie raised his eyebrows, but he closed his book and joined Flash by the door, lowering himself down to sit on the wood flooring. "Where do you want me to...?"

Flash pulled his right thigh up again, and waved his left limb at Eddie. "Just push down with both of your hands so it's flat. Like chest compressions. But not really, actually, please don't try to resuscitate my stumps. You just need to hold it still so that I can stretch properly."

"...Right." Eddie shifted, and pressed his palms down on the top of Flash's leg, firmly.

Much better.

Flash counted to thirty before switching, and Eddie switched with him.

It had honestly been a while since he did this with a partner, usually settling for a makeshift weight—a mini sandbag, or whatever he had on hand—and there was a certain intimacy he'd forgotten about, in the warm press of another person's palms against his skin.

Eddie's hands lingered, as Flash ended his stretch, and for a second Flash thought he might not take his hands away at all—but then he sat back against the couch.

"Hey, how're your hands so soft?"

"I use lotion every night before bed."

Flash twisted, to give his spine a good stretch. "That's it?" He leaned back on his palms for a moment, tilting his head.

Pulling himself to his feet, Eddie rumbled, "That's it." and left Flash to his stretches.

Flash plopped down onto his stomach, moving into further simple stretches—arching his back, elbows planted firmly into his mat. Held that for a bit, focusing on his breathing and stillness, eyes closed...

After a moment of near-silence, he heard the sound of Eddie's socks against the floor, his pajama pants rustling—Flash squinted one eye open as Eddie knelt in front of him, on the hard wood.

Eddie said nothing, but he leaned close, forehead-to-forehead, mouth-to-mouth—

Flash jolted, and pulled back. "Hey, buddy, that's a little—a little forward, dontcha think?"

Eddie held eye contact, and murmured, "Is it?"

***

The owners of the cabin actually had a fairly impressive collection of books for what was, presumably, only a vacation home. In particular, a lot of poetry, which Flash seemed drawn to. He spent most of the rest of the day absorbed in Robert Frost and Emily Dickinson, periodically breaking to check his phone (still no signal for either of them) or to go to the bathroom.

Eddie dozed, half-listening to one of the audiobooks he'd brought with him, warm beside the low fire, wrapped in a blanket, idly watching Flash read. He'd barely been paying attention for the past few minutes—something about the protagonist's "pale, heaving breast" and her paramour's chiseled jaw.

Eddie breathed out a quiet laugh at a particularly lurid, over-the-top line of debauchery and shifted to be a little more comfortable... still watching Flash, so focused, barely aware of his surroundings. For a man trained to be a soldier, Eddie would have thought he'd be more alert but he only had eyes for his poetry, worrying his lip with his teeth absentmindedly, tilting his head, soft and pretty in the firelight. Not entirely Eddie's type, personally, but... he could see the appeal. Obviously, enticed as he was to kiss Flash earlier.

The longer Flash read, and the longer the shadows grew, as the room darkened, the more he nodded off, dozing... He jolted out of his half-asleep haze a few times, but finally succumbed to sleep, book on his chest, and head at an awkward angle.

Just a while longer... Another day.

***

When it got dark, and the fire had begun to burn low, and they had eaten a pilfered meal of baked beans and canned sausage, Eddie and Flash went to bed.

Though some residual heat gusted along the enclosed space of the loft, it had gotten colder, and Eddie curled into his blankets with a shiver. He lay staring up at the ceiling, listening to the low hum, whirr and click of his oxygen machine, breathing slowly through his nose. His cannula dug slightly into a spot behind his ear but he couldn't bring himself to move.

Just as he felt himself drifting off to sleep, a whine cut through the quiet.

Eddie frowned. Cocked his head to listen.

From below, Flash mumbled something incoherent, though his garbled words clarified into a simple "no no no no—" but then he fell silent again.

Eddie let himself relax, slowly... More of the hum... click, click, click and the soft whoosh of air.

A shout startled him upright, almost pulling his cannula right off of his face—Flash, again, audibly distressed. Eddie pulled the tubing off of his face and moved to the edge of the loft, peering down into the darkness.

He could just make out Flash's silhouette on the couch, sitting up straight, seemingly hyperventilating.

"Flash?" Eddie put one hand out to support himself, shivering in the cold air.

No response, just a whimper, though Flash's quick breaths steadied somewhat.

After a few seconds, Flash laid back down, blankets rustling.

Eddie sat against the loft railing, just listening and shivering with his toes curled and his knees half-up. Just in case... Waiting for a certain moment—what moment, he couldn't say. He knew it wasn't the right time, yet.

So he sat there for a while, cold and tense, electric in his vague anticipation.

***

A soft murmur roused Flash from his sleep. He reached for his phone to check the time, before anything else—almost 5 am. He groaned.

Then tensed—a shadow loomed in the early morning darkness, at the foot of the loveseat. Broad and tall and—

"Flash."

Oh, it was just Eddie.

Flash let out a sigh, and let his head fall back against his pillow. "Jesus, Eddie, you scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry." Eddie shifted, clothes whispering in the relative silence before he mumbled, "Is there an outlet over there?"

Currently with his phone and laptop plugged into it...

"Yeah. Why?"

"My battery's almost dead... If I plug it in over there maybe I could sleep on the floor."

Flash raised his head, and now that his eyes had adjusted better he could see Eddie holding up his oxygen machine, a little green light blinking on top and the tubing still attached and wrapped around Eddie's face. It whirred quietly.

The fuck was he supposed to say? No, you can't plug your _breathing apparatus_ in because I'm using the outlet?

He wasn't an _asshole_.

"C'mere." Flash gestured him over, pulling his phone charger out of the wall and switching on the flashlight app so Eddie could see.

Eddie pulled his breathing tubes off and left for a moment, back up into the loft.

 _Fwump_ —

A bundle of blankets landed on the floor at the foot of the ladder, and a pillow. Eddie came back down and moved the coffee table out of the way, setting it behind the ladder and next to the bathroom door, so he could push his stuff into the space in front of the fireplace, on top of the thick fur rug that covered the floorboards.

Eddie laid himself down, attached to his oxygen once again, and curled up under the blankets.

Flash settled down too, pulling his own blankets up snug around his ears.

Aside from Eddie's gradually slowing breaths and the hum of his air, the cabin was mostly silent. Occasionally, the walls creaked, and Flash could make out the strong whip of the wind outside. It got louder for a second, then died down. He closed his eyes and just listened.

Minutes of that passed. Wind growing into a frenzy, and then back down. Silence between him and Eddie.

He figured Eddie had fallen asleep, and determined to do the same but then, subdued, Eddie murmured, "You kept me awake earlier."

"What?" Flash opened his eyes, frowning.

"You don't remember?" Eddie breathed deeply.

Flash shifted so he could get a better look at Eddie. "Remember what?"

Eddie looked back at him, his features barely visible in the shadows. "You shouted. Were you having a nightmare?"

Right, of course.

"Oh, jeez, I'm _so_ sorry—" Flash wrinkled his nose. "I get those sometimes—night terrors. I should have let you know but I forgot. I guess the stress must have got to me."

Eddie sighed, thoughtfully. "I don't mind."

Flash nodded. "Okay." He turned his back to Eddie, though he felt his gaze lingering, and tried to go to sleep.

***

Flash sucked in a breath as he sat on the edge of the tub—freezing cold against his skin, even in the late morning. But it slowly warmed from his body heat.

Of course, then he actually sat _in_ the tub, and found himself bare-ass on cold-porcelain again. But the hot water certainly worked well, and billows of steam rose around him as the bath filled and his shivers subsided.

Hopefully whoever owned this place wouldn't mind their water bill being a little higher this winter.

Flash let himself relax.

He took his time, letting the aches ease out of his cold-tensed muscles before reaching for his shampoo, lined up with his toiletries along the edge of the bath tub within easy reach.

Simple routine—wash and condition his hair, careful as he rinsed. Scrub his face, and lather up his body. He'd found a hand mirror and a bag of suction cups in one of the drawers under the sink, so he stuck the mirror onto the wall and took the opportunity to shave his patchy stubble, too. Nothing like a smooth face to pretend he had his life under control. Definitely not stranded, no way.

A little bit of Old Spice, and he was good to go—minty fresh and baby-faced.

He stayed in the bath a while longer, anyway, just because he could.

Nowhere to go, no one to see—well, there was Eddie, but he wasn't exactly going anywhere any time soon, either.

Flash leaned back, as comfortable as he could get, just listening to the wind outside and the occasional creak as Eddie moved around in the main room of the cabin.

Calm, quiet.

Almost peaceful enough for Flash to forget that they were squatting in a stranger's cabin, stranded because of a freak blizzard, and cut off from the rest of civilization until the weather subsided. Or at least until one of their cellphones managed to make a stronger connection, but that seemed unlikely at that point, considering they could still barely connect even after the snowfall had dropped off so sharply.

The sink ran briefly in the kitchen.

Probably Eddie making something to eat.

Definitely not their food, but, again, Flash had to hope the owners wouldn't mind.

It was that or nothing, after all.

He listened to Eddie clanging around in the kitchen and closed his eyes, breathing in the steam and the smell of soap. Weird to be alone, but also _not_ alone, for the first time in a few days. Not counting the nighttime.

More alone than most of the day at least, and more private compared to their sleeping arrangement... Ex-sleeping arrangement, probably. Seemed likely that Eddie would probably start sleeping on the floor instead of the loft, judging by last night.

Flash pulled the plug on the bath water.

***

The wind was frighteningly loud, actually howling and drawing strange moans and wails from the trees outside, rattling the windows, sometimes sending bursts of icy snow clattering against them. Eddie let the curtain fall back over the window, too cloudy out for any real sunlight to come through, and turned his attention to the gently boiling water on the stove. More pasta, but this time a box of pseudo-gourmet mac and cheese, and a can of chili sitting at the ready, waiting to be mixed in with the final product.

Flash cursed in the bathroom, and then the door opened—Eddie glanced over his shoulder as Flash awkwardly shoved his way out into the open, hair hanging damp around his face.

Eddie grabbed the colander from where he'd left it on the counter, and set it in the sink.

"Whatcha makin'?"

He stirred the not-quite-done shells with half a shrug. "Chili mac."

"Ooh... yummy." Flash wheeled up beside him, peering up, as if he might be able to stretch his spine to standing height.

Eddie let out a soft huff of laughter. "What happened to 'don't steal'?"

Turning in his wheelchair, Flash said, "Listen." He rolled over to the living area with one well-practiced motion. "It's been like, basically three days... two and a half? Whatever. If we're gonna be stuck here, I'm not gonna insist on starving." He fell quiet, rustling—rummaging around in one of his bags. "You know?"

"I'm certainly not complaining." Eddie poured the shell noodles into the colander, a big cloud of steam rising up. He leaned away, keeping his face clear. "Don't know what I would have done if you turned out to be a stickler for rules, in such extenuating circumstances." He paused. "Tie you up, maybe."

Absolute silence.

Eddie grinned down at the sink, maybe a little wolfish.

"Wha—" Flash's voice was muffled for a second, but then it clarified—"What?! Excuse me!? Did you just say that out loud?!"

Eddie laughed, though he let it turn into more of a wheeze pretty quickly.

"Hey," Flash moved toward Eddie, hesitant. "You okay?"

He met Flash's eyes for a moment, out of breath but still smiling—

Flash had put on a thick mossy green sweater, the same one he'd worn on the car ride here, and his hair stuck up a bit, face lined with just a hint of concern.

Eddie let his smile widen. "I'm fine."

"Okay, well, I'm gonna go grab some more firewood from the porch."

"Be careful. Wouldn't want you hurting your pretty little face."

Flash laughed, on his way to the door. "Right."

Eddie turned his attention back to making lunch, thinking of what he might do later that night.

***

"Is this yours?"

Flash looked up from his game of virtual solitaire.

Oh, Jesus.

"Uhhhhhhhh..."

Eddie inspected the plastic bag in his hand, which _had_ been in Flash's suitcase... but now, clearly, was no longer in his suitcase. Obviously. Mortifyingly. How it had gotten out, Flash didn't know.

"Maybe." Flash would have fought his blush if he could, but that always proved fruitless. He could feel his ears burning red.

"Were you planning on a little action this weekend?" Eddie tossed the bag of condoms at Flash with a devilish grin, eyes crinkling at the corners as he moved to sit on the arm of the loveseat. The smuggest goddamn look Flash had ever seen in his life.

Flash shoved his little "emergency kit" into his pocket, straightening up. "Listen—" He set his laptop aside, carefully, reaching for his wheelchair. "You never know what could happen! I could've met a really nice woman, or something." He ignored Eddie's incredulous expression as he made his way over to where he'd left his suitcase after his bath that afternoon and muttered, "I wasn't planning anything, I just like to be prepared."

He shoved his kit into the deepest pocket of his suitcase he could find, pointedly avoiding looking up at Eddie—he didn't wanna know what kind of face he was making; laughing, or judgmental, or what.

But when Flash finally looked up, Eddie was just watching him intently. Intense—his eyes seemed so dark, but maybe that was just because it was getting darker. But something about it... hungry, animalistic...

"What?" Flash made his way back to the loveseat, brushing off the goosebumps that rose up his arms.

Eddie slipped down from his perch on the arm of the couch, onto the cushion as Flash pulled himself back into his spot. He moved closer, into Flash's personal space, though not quite touching. He just sat there, an inch or so away, watching Flash.

"About what I said earlier..." Eddie licked his lips, pupils wide and breath slow.

Flash shifted away, slightly. "...What?"  

What had Eddie said earlier?

There was the condom conversation, but surely he meant before that—

Eddie leaned across Flash—not to touch him, but to reach for his breathing stuff, the clear plastic of the nasal cannula.

"Well..." For a moment he seemed to move as if to put it on, but then—

Flash found himself underneath Eddie, pinned beneath his weight, hot fingers tight around his wrists. Eddie wrapped the tubing around and between his hands, fingers, wrists, pulling tighter with each loop even as Flash squirmed against him.

"What are you doing?!" Flash tried to get one of his stumps up between them, any space between their bodies, but Eddie pressed down harder, tightening and tightening that tubing and tying it off. Deceptive strength hidden in his wiry frame, as he breathed hotly against Flash's face.

"Don't struggle too much, now..." Eddie brushed a finger across Flash's brow, pushing a stray strand of hair out of his face. "You wouldn't want to hurt yourself."

Flash shoved at him with his bound hands—"Fuck you, freak!"

Eddie caught him by the wrists again, with a grin. "Feisty. I like it." He moved, to sit on Flash's chest—on his arms too, so he couldn't move at all. "Much more of a fighter than Eddie, all sick and frail..."

Wait.

"What?"

Flash struggled to breath, under Eddie's weight, as he stared up at him.

Eddie let out a low chuckle. "Would you like to see him?"

"What the fuck are you talking about—" Flash heaved a deep gasp as Eddie's weight lifted from his chest, and for a second just lay there trying to catch his breath—Eddie off by the ladder, rummaging through his things.

He came back with his cellphone, and knelt beside the loveseat. One arm, he lay across Flash, and with the other hand held up his phone. "Look, see?" He pulled up his photo album and—

Jesus Christ.

A man just like him, in the picture. A strong nose and a heavy brow and sharp cheekbones, but so skinny, and even paler. Dark bags under his glassy eyes; thin, patchy red-brown hair. Terrified, tears running down his face, medical tape over his mouth in strips, and beside him... Eddie, grinning. A selfie of the two of them.

"I'll let you in on a little secret." Eddie leaned in close, so his mouth almost touched Flash's. "Eddie's dead."

"Who the fuck _are_ you—" Flash tilted his head back, away from Eddie.

Eddie swiped casually through his photos. Flash tried not to look too closely, but he caught glimpses. A woman with the same nose, and thick bleached hair. Another woman with a curly quiff and a power suit. Both angry, about as angry as Flash probably.

"Don't get the wrong idea—I'm still Eddie, but it's short for Edwin. Not like my dear, deceased brother Edward here." He waved the phone at Flash before tossing it to the fur rug on the floor. "He wasn't much fun. So sad and sick. He tried to kill himself once already, I was just helping him along." He ran a thumb across Flash's cheekbone, gently, as he spoke.

Flash clenched his jaw—tried to hit Eddie again, with his fingers interlocked around the plastic tubing—a makeshift cudgel—but Eddie just grabbed his arms with a smile.

"Be nice." Eddie—Edwin gave Flash a soft pat on the cheek, condescending. "He would have really liked you, you know? Stubborn, feisty, sweet. And those dimples." He poked Flash's cheek. "Very cute, though I'll admit you're not entirely my type. Don't get me wrong—" He brushed his fingers back through Flash's hair. "You're gorgeous, but I prefer curves."

"You're a fucking creep—" Flash really wished he could get any kind of leverage.

"Yeah, I get that a lot." Edwin reached for his phone again and pulled himself up onto the loveseat again. He tugged Flash upright, sitting them together against the arm of the couch, and held out his phone with a grin. "Say cheese!"

"Fuck you!"

The camera flash sent a burst of color across Flash's vision for just a few seconds—he used that moment of brightness to elbow Eddie in the ribs. Eddie grunted, and Flash lunged off the couch, nearly landing face-first on the floor. He wormed his way across the floor as fast as he could, but Eddie was already up and suddenly down again—weight on Flash's lower back, pinning him to the ground.

"You really _are_ stubborn."

Flash tried to dislodge him, grunting, "Get off!" but no luck.

He let himself go slack. Pretended to give up.

"There's a good boy..." Edwin waited a moment before moving off of Flash, standing up and stepping over his head to get God only knew what—Flash moved in a rush.

A lunge from his place on the floor, to catch Eddie's foot—Eddie fell hard, a big man with nearly 200 pounds to crash to the floor with a curse and a heavy thud. Flash didn't give him a chance to get back up—he wasted no time in using his own bound hands as leverage and pulled himself up Edwin's body, getting his arms up over his head—

Edwin gritted his teeth, as Flash focused on getting just one arm at the right angle around his neck, pressing his bicep against his windpipe with as much strength as he could muster. Edwin rolled them over with a growl, but Flash didn't let go. Even when he stood, he held on—tightened his arm, tightened his thighs around Eddie's waist, refusing to be dislodged.

"You—" Edwin gasped, stumbling forward. "Little shit—" He caught himself on the ladder.

Flash clung to him, breathing hard through his nose as he kept up the pressure.

A slight struggle, a scrabble. Eddie's nails dug into Flash's arm; Flash tensed and flexed his grip.

Edwin cursed again, barely audible, and dropped to kneeling.

Flash still didn't let up—it could be a trap.

Hands and knees, wheezing for real.

Edwin collapsed underneath Flash, and for a few minutes Flash kept up his hold.

But then, finally, he let go.

He rolled off of Eddie, breathing hard himself. He trembled, laying on the floor beside Eddie for just a few seconds before crawling back toward the couch, to his laptop and his phone. No service, still.

But...

Edwin's phone had fallen on the floor, in the scuffle. Flash swiped it open—no lock, which seemed like a stupid mistake but Flash wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth... And sure enough, it had full service and a data connection.

"You motherfucker..." Flash pulled open the GPS. Made a mental note of their location. Glanced over at Edwin's unconscious form. Work fast, work fast... Flash rolled onto his back and awkwardly tugged at his belt buckle. It took some doing but he managed to get his belt off, and held it in his teeth as he dragged himself back over to Eddie's side.

Hands behind his back, with some effort, and belt around that—it wasn't great, and it probably wouldn't hold, but it was better than nothing, if Eddie woke up. He patted Eddie's pockets—found the car keys, and took those.

He grabbed both of their phones and managed to get them into his pockets along with the keys, and hauled himself up into his wheelchair.

Shit.

No, he could do this, he'd steered one-handed before. This was basically the same.

One wheel at a time.

Getting the door open was a pain, but he got it, and rolled out onto the porch.

The snow was still pretty thick, and it was freezing, and Flash was wearing just his pajamas and a sweater he'd thrown on...

He could get down the stairs at least, a bumpy ride but nothing he'd never done before.

The snow proved almost impossible to move through, two feet deep at least, half-frozen and crunching as he tried to get his chair to move at less than a snail's pace.

"Fuck." Flash took a deep breath of the frigid air, pulling the keys out of his pocket. He hit the button to unlock the rental car, shoved the keys back into his pocket, and lunged forward.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—" Cold, icy, generally awful. Snow getting up his pajama shorts and in the collar of his sweater and in his face—he grabbed the door on the car, wrestling with it just a moment against the deep snow and the frost on the hinges—but it creaked open.

The front door to the cabin slammed open—had it really taken him that long to get to the car? His breath caught in his throat as he hauled himself into the rental car, pulling the door shut hard behind him and immediately locking the car doors—

Eddie's hands slammed on the hood, his face contorted in anger. "You think you're safe?!" Voice muffled through the windows.

Flash sat back against the seat with a whimper of relief, fear, stress... He suppressed a shudder of cold and anxiety and fumbled with shaking fingers to get the keys into the ignition. What could he do, what could he do? Even if he could have reached the pedals, the car had been thoroughly snowed in. Windshield wipers... no. He switched the headlights into bright mode—outside, Eddie forced his way through the snow toward the shed just a few feet from the porch.

"Shit—shit, shit, shit, fuck—" Flash hit whatever buttons he could, turned on the heater to settle his frozen bones, set off an alarm, released the emergency brake. Anything to give him some kind of edge as Edwin kicked at the door to the shed with his bare feet.

Flash grabbed the stolen phone from his pocket and called the police.

The shed door held, for the moment.

"911, what's your emergency?"

Flash kept an eye on Eddie as he said, voice as steady as he could make it, "A man's trying to kill me—" His voice cracked, and he took a deep breath.

The shed door buckled, but did not fully splinter.

"Oh God—" Flash steadied himself.

"What's your location?"

He rattled off the address the GPS had given him almost from memory.

Eddie slammed into the door and the whole thing went down.

"And can I ask the number you're calling from?"

"I don't—" Flash held back a noise—he couldn't see Eddie anymore, in the black shadows of the shed. "No, I don't—I stole his phone, I think he blocked the service on mine or something, I don't know—"

"Alright, sir, that's fine. Is there any way you can remove yourself from the situation?"

"No, no—I'm in the car but the snow's too deep and I'm disabled, I can't drive—" His breath hitched, as Eddie came out of the cabin with a shovel. "I think he's gonna break the windows, I don't know, my hands are tied together." He held the phone carefully in his bound hands and squirmed around, to get between the two front seats and haul himself into the back. No safer, but less windows, further from the windshield.

He kept talking, kept answering the operator's questions, as he shoved himself under one of the seats as much as he could. Luckily the way they folded meant they had some space underneath, and while it was cramped it made him feel just a tiny bit safer.

He tried to focus on the woman's voice and not on the sound of glass shattering.

"You can't hide from me, Flash! There's nowhere to go!"

Doors unlocked with a thunk.

"Get away from me!" Flash crammed himself deeper under the seat, a near futile action, as Eddie pulled the back door open. He could hear the woman on the other end of the line asking him to keep calm, not to hang up, but all his attention was on the man leaning into the car, reaching for him. "Don't touch me!"

Hands on his thigh, pulling—Eddie got him by the waist and dragged him out from under the seat, though Flash tried to get his fingers around something to keep himself from being pulled. But there was nothing, and Eddie was too strong, and hauled him out, into his arms. "No!"

"Come on, don't be stupid." Eddie held Flash to his chest—Flash headbutted him.

"Ah—Christ!"

But Eddie had dropped Flash, and Flash hit the edge of the car's open door with a grunt and a burst of pain through his ribs. He hissed and pulled himself back in, but already Eddie's hands were on him again. He didn’t know what to do, other than resist. He couldn't go anywhere, Eddie was right. He couldn't hide. Eventually Eddie would get sick of messing around, and he would hurt Flash, and Flash wouldn't be able to stop him.

Flash bit back another whimper, as Eddie dragged him out of the car again.

No more words, just strength and heavy breathing and a low snarl as Eddie avoided Flash's attempt at slamming the back of his head into his nose.

Flash struggled, still, sweating through his shirt but freezing all the same in the icy wind, as Eddie carried him back up the front steps.

He couldn't get Eddie to drop him.

He would've rather frozen to death outside than anything that was coming, he didn't care what it was. He'd rather die of hypothermia and frostbite.

But then—

The repetitive thud of rotary blades.

"You're kidding me..." Eddie threw Flash over the back of the couch, slamming the front door shut—Flash barely hit the cushions before falling to the floor with a grunt.

"They sent a _helicopter_?"

Please, God, let them see the tracks in the snow.

Eddie swore. Flash couldn't see him but he sounded like he was in the kitchen.

Bright light flooded through the cracks in the curtains, passing over the walls in swathes as the sound of the helicopter grew deafening.

Flash made to move but Eddie was on him in a few strides, grabbing Flash's own discarded belt from the floor nearby—He got it around Flash's neck, pulling it through the buckle almost gently, drawing it gradually tighter.

"You might just be my downfall..." Eddie pulled the belt tight enough to dig into the soft skin of Flash's throat, straightening up as the sound of boots stomped up the front steps.

Flash struggled to breathe, to get any air at all—the edges of his vision darkened and he slowly felt himself go limp, lightheaded and drifting away...

***

Flash woke up strapped to a stretcher, covered with a blanket, wearing an oxygen mask. He blinked in a daze, head lolling slightly as he tried to get a good look at his surroundings. It was so loud, and bumpy, flying through the air.

But the person sitting with him touched him gently, with reassuring murmurs he couldn't hear.

He lost consciousness again.

The next time he woke was in the hospital, snug under rough but warm cotton blankets and hooked up to an IV and various monitors and machines.

Safe, and alive...

His mother was sitting beside his bed, and as he shifted, she looked up from her clasped hands.

"Mom..." His voice came out a hoarse croak.

"Oh, my sweet baby—" She reached for his face, hands dry and warm, so soft and gentle.

Flash choked back a sob, a long time coming—it hurt his throat so bad, and he clung to his mom 's wrists in the well-lit, quiet hum of the hospital room as she soothed him with a soft "Hush, I've got you."

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, real author's note tho.  
> Since cabin-based stories kind of have two settings (romance or horror) this kind of ended up going in a uh... weird direction. It's still mildly gay but I did tone that down cause I'm not big on the evil gay murderer thing, but it's still got some in there cause... let's be real, everything I write is slightly homoerotic.  
> But I also didn't want it to be too sensual or homoerotic cause I really didn't want to get into sexual assault territory (unlike some people), like I mentioned above in the opening notes, especially with Flash being disabled and the high prevalence of sexual assault and other abuses that real life disabled people are subject to, far too often.  
> Obviously, again, there are ways that kind of subject can be addressed but I don't think this would have been it.
> 
> I was really torn on Eddie's breathing thing, as well. In the end, you might notice that it seems gone but other parts kind of imply it's genuine, and that's in part cause I wasn't actually sure if I wanted him to be able-bodied or not. I guess he must be if he's fine during the final scenes... but abled man murders disabled man really rubbed me the wrong way, though even just the assault with intent to murder is rough on its own.  
> So I had Flash fight back and _survive_ and Eddie implied to be arrested.  
> In some ways that inconsistency kind of works, though, since this is intended to be a little ridiculous, and not a "good" plot, overall supposed to be sudden and unbelievable and unoriginal, though I couldn't help adding in a few tiny parts that hint at what's coming. 
> 
> Obviously in the actual, real version of this fic ([another link for posterity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18282299)), Eddie _is_ disabled and not faking it at all. 
> 
> I chose the name Edwin based off of what I think might be a printing or writing error from some old comic--God I don't even remember which one. It might have also been a fake name Eddie was using though. I literally have no idea. But it seemed fitting. My first instinct was... Dylan, but I thought that might be a little mean-spirited and while I don't _like_ Dylan as a character, he's not a bad kid, so I decided to go with something else. 
> 
> Anyway, that's my AU of an AU, with the most ridiculous plot twist I could think of...  
> I had fun, I'll admit, but if I were writing this as a serious story you KNOW it'd be way different.


End file.
